


Taking the Hit

by roseygal99



Series: BatFam Angsty/Whumpy Stuff [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:22:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21579841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseygal99/pseuds/roseygal99
Summary: Tim Drake gives his all for the city he loves.
Series: BatFam Angsty/Whumpy Stuff [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2049657
Comments: 5
Kudos: 98





	Taking the Hit

_“Some great people have worn this uniform. It’s more than a name—it’s a legacy. If you’re going to do this, you’re going to have to work hard,” Bruce said, holding a new Robin uniform in his hands. “I’ll accept your all. Nothing less.”_

_Young Tim Drake nodded. “Yes, sir.”_

The Batplane dipped and swerved towards skyscrapers as Tim, now several years older, fought to keep it above the Gotham skyline. Beside him, Bruce, his cowl torn to shreds, worked to keep the other set of controls in line. A damaged wing on the left side threatened to break free from the rest of the craft. Sparks flew up from the panel as the cockpit filled with smoke. Tim glanced at the countdown on the control panel: 8 minutes.

_“What’s this?” Tim asked turning a slender weapon over in his hands._

_“I call it a batarang,” Bruce explained. “Give it time. This will become one of your best friends.”_

“Tim, bail out!” Bruce yelled over the blare of the alarms going off in the cockpit. “Now!”

Tim leapt from the seat and ran to the back of the plane. “There aren’t any parachutes!” he shouted.

Bruce cursed, made sure the rest of the sky was clear, then hurried back to join him. He instantly found a dark backpack. “There’s one right—” 

Tim slammed the button to open the doors and shoved Bruce toward them. Bruce, dangling halfway out of the plane, grabbed Tim’s arm.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

_“I don’t understand!” Tim shouted, “Why are you so mad at me? I was just trying to help!”_

_“You were reckless— you could’ve gotten yourself killed. Never disobey my orders in the field like that again.”_

_“I thought we were supposed to look out for each other.”_

_“No, I look out for you. I protect you. Not the other way around. If I ever catch you putting yourself in danger like that for me again, you’re done. Is that clear?”_

_“…Yes, sir.”_

“Tim!” Bruce barked, his voice being dragged away by the wind. “What are you doing?!”

Tim’s hand went to his belt. “I’m sorry,” he said, then whipped out a batarang and stabbed Bruce’s hand, forcing him to release. Tim peered out of the plane and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the parachute open in the distance. A massive clang followed by the screech of metal signaled the loss of the left wing. The plane started to dive. 

“Computer!” Tim yelled, leaping back into the pilot’s seat. “Emergency stabilizer! Left side!” A flimsier, secondary wing folded out of the plane, taking the other one’s place. Tim forced the aircraft back into the air.

A few moments later Bruce’s voice crackled over his earpiece, furious. “Tim! Get out of there now! That’s an order!”

“If I leave now it’ll never make it.”

“Tim--”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

Silence. Then, “This wasn’t the plan. It was supposed to be me.”

“I know. But there can always be another Robin. There can never be another Batman.” Tim glanced over his shoulder at the payload of explosives at the back of the plane. The timer on the cockpit was at 3 minutes. He took a steadying breath as he soared over the city, headed towards the bay. “Bruce?” he asked, his voice lighter as he changed the subject suddenly.

“Yes.”

“You remember the first time we went on patrol together? My first night in the uniform.”

No response.

“Bruce?”

“I do.”

Tim laughed half-heartedly. “How many times did you have to show me which side my grapple was on?”

“It was a rough start, but you caught on quickly.”

“I had a good teacher.”

Another pause as the plane rumbled out over the water. “Do you remember what you said to me that night? When we got back?” Met with silence again, Tim continued, “It was almost dawn. I had taken a pretty good shot to the face and you were patching me up. I was upset because I thought it meant I wasn’t good enough. But you said—”

“‘Bleeding isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s a sign of strength. It means you’re willing to take the hit when it counts,’” Bruce finished. “I remember.”

“Yeah.” Tim swallowed hard, his heart pounding. Tears spilled down his cheeks. “I’m trying to be strong now, but I’m getting kind of scared.” His voice cracked, betraying his practiced calm.

“It’s okay to be scared,” Bruce urged. “It’s okay. I’m here. Just breathe.”

Tim nodded, taking a breath. “Yeah. Okay.” One minute. Tears continued to fall as he stared out towards the horizon.

“Focus on my voice,” Bruce continued. “You’re doing great. You’re a hero, Tim.”

The boy laughed wryly. “I don’t feel like one.”

“No one ever does. But it’s true. This city owes you everything.”

Tim didn’t know what to say to that. He pivoted again: “Tell Alfred I said goodbye. And that I’m sorry about the stain on the curtains.”

“I will.”

Thirty seconds. “Dick, too,” he added suddenly. “Tell him I…” Tim’s voice caught. He tried to clear it.

“I will,” Bruce said gently, understanding.

Tim nodded. Fifteen seconds. It was almost time; he felt like he was watching himself from outside of his body. Everything around him had begun to take on a surreal, almost dreamlike quality. Suddenly something occurred to him. He spoke quickly, “This wasn’t your fault, Bruce.”

“What?”

“I chose this, okay? Promise me you won’t blame yourself.”

Back in the city, Bruce was perched on a rooftop, watching the plane through high powered binoculars. 

“Promise me!” Tim’s voice was panicked, almost desperate.

Bruce took a trembling breath. “I—” The line went dead as the small plane exploded in a sudden, dazzling display of fire and smoke miles from the harbor. When the black cloud cleared, there was hardly a trace left. Bruce lowered the binoculars slowly and slumped back, numb, his eyes fixed on the water yet seeing nothing. For the first time since he could remember, his mind was entirely blank.

Suddenly, his earpiece crackled back to life. “Bruce? I saw the explosion from here— are you okay? Why isn’t anyone answering?!” It was Dick, frantic with worry.

“I’m here,” Bruce said.

“Oh thank God. Where’s Tim? He isn’t responding. Bruce?” A beat. Then slowly, his voice pitching and cracking awkwardly, “Tell me he didn’t do what I think he did. Tell me I’m wrong, Bruce. Please.” 

Bruce couldn't find the words. He let the silence fill in the gaps. Dick cursed violently. "God _damn it--!"_

“Hello?” the young voice was weak, but clear, cutting Dick's tirade short. Bruce froze. “Are you two talking about me again?”

A broad smile cut across Bruce’s face as a relieved chuckle escaped his lips, turning quickly into a full-throated laugh. Through the earpiece he could hear Tim Drake laughing along with him, the sound mixing with the splash of waves. “Little help out here?” he asked.

"I'm on my way," Bruce said, standing. He fired off his grapple and swung away.

Down below, Gotham trudged on, never once acknowledging the disturbance on the water and completely oblivious to the immense debt they had almost owed to a sixteen year-old boy who had been willing to pay the ultimate price for them -- a city of people who didn’t even know his name. 


End file.
